


Where You Started From

by imperfectkreis



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9617204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectkreis/pseuds/imperfectkreis
Summary: “You told me once, that I should be brave,” Prompto drums his fingers against his stomach. His nails are clean. Took him ten minutes to clean them out with the little file he keeps on his belt with his pocket knife. The file is about the only thing he uses in the kit."That doesn't sound like me."(Or: it's really hard to find alone time when you can only afford one motel room and otherwise you're sharing a tent with two other dudes)





	

“You told me once, that I should be brave,” Prompto drums his fingers against his stomach. His nails are clean. Took him ten minutes to clean them out with the little file he keeps on his belt with his pocket knife. The file is about the only thing he uses in the kit.

The sun is high overhead and the sky a clear, bright blue. It’s just past noon, but they’ve already settled down to camp. Looking at the map, it’s too far to the next campsite, if they continue on. And they can’t risk the daemons. Especially not when Gladio’s wrist is still mending with the elixir. Noctis apologized already about twenty times, but that doesn’t make the shattered bone fuse any faster.

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Noctis has his arms tucked in behind his head, staring up at the constellations of wispy clouds that can’t block out the light. There’s something wrong with their star. But no matter how many times Noctis tries to understand, how many books about the Scourge he tries to read, he never really gets it. Because days like this are just, pretty. And warm and he’s glad that Prompto is still here at his side, even if things are starting to fall apart.

Prompto pushes up on his elbows, turning to face Noctis. He’s taken off his vest, leaving him in his sleeveless shirt and the nest of leather bands around his wrists. His belt is undone, flapping open at the buckle, pulled by gravity towards the ground. “I’m pretty sure it was you, dude.”

Noctis rolls his eyes, “Yeah, because I’m always encouraging mature behavior.”

Shoving at his shoulder, Prompto flips over onto his stomach, putting his nose close to Noctis’ cheek. His breath smells like the cherry hard candies they bought at the last service station, sugary and slightly sour. Noctis probably smells like them too. Gladio complained when they kept clicking them against their teeth, until Noctis and Prompto managed to click them in the rhythm of that pop song they were using in StarTel commercials back before they left the capital. Then Ignis threatened to pull over and make the prince walk to camp.

“Had to be you. I don’t talk to other people.”

Noctis’ doesn’t really talk to other people either: Gladio and Ignis and his dad.

Not his dad. Not anymore.

The grief still hits him in waves. Because he hasn’t had time to process. He’s not going to get time. Not until...everything is over. 

“You’re overthinking it,” Prompto taps at Noctis’ temple, before moving his hand to muss up his hair, pulling it around at all angles. That’s just not fair.

Noctis pushes himself up so he can push Prompto back down, shoving his chest so Prompto’s back hits the grass. They’re both too tired to really fight, but Prompto gives a half-hearted attempt at squirming away while Noctis sticks his hands into Prompto’s slightly tacky hair. 

“It’s softer if you don’t put that crap in it,” Noctis murmurs, watching as Prompto’s face starts to flush. 

He ends up with his knee between Prompto’s thighs and their groins pressed together. And Noctis really fucking hates that they only ever have the money for one motel room between the four of them and otherwise they’re sharing a tent. Because they haven’t had a moment of privacy since leaving Insomnia.

If Prompto isn’t feeling wound up too, Noctis is going to fucking strangle him. Because all he wants to do is grind down until he comes in his jeans at this point because things are getting absolutely ridiculous between the two of them. 

It’s hard to miss the way Prompto starts canting his hips up, to put pressure against them both. Reaching up, he tugs at Noctis’ hair again, “So’s yours.”

Noctis doesn’t really know what to do because Gladio and Ignis aren’t more than twenty feet away on higher ground, cooking up lunch and setting up the tent. But Noctis feels warm all over, the heat from the sun soaking into their black clothes and wrapping them in unrelenting smog.

Putting his forehead against Prompto’s is both a great and terrible decision. Great because it calms his racing heart, if only for a moment. And terrible, because Prompto takes the opportunity to sneak his lips against Noctis’, just for the barest second.

Noctis moves away, instead burying his head at Prompto’s shoulder, shielding his mouth from an assault that's a long time coming. Breathing deeply, the sharpness of grass and the salt of Prompto’s skin is overwhelming.

“We can just,” Prompto shifts his hips again. “I don't think they're watching us.”

Noctis really, really wants to believe that's true. So he rolls back onto his side, grabbing Prompto by his shoulder so they're still face to face. He kisses Prompto, hard. Trying to pour weeks of frustration and missed opportunity past his teeth. His stomach clenches down when Prompto’s hand ghosts across his abdomen. Fiddling with one hand, Prompto gets Noctis’s belt open, then his fly.

They stay close together, practically on top of one another, snaking their hands into the confines of their boxers. There's not a lot of room to maneuver and there's something electrifyingly haunting about doing this outside, under the sunlight and with the grass sticking to their skin.

They're city boys, used to concrete and metal, Noctis’ sheets and wood floors in an apartment he could only afford because he was prince. But now, he's king, even if all he has to his name is a thirty-year-old car and Prompto, whose breath runs blazing against his neck as they stroke each other in near silence.

Prompto keeps his eyes open, he always does. Because he's cheerful and bright, even if Noctis claims he's used to the dark. Even if he knows Prompto’s sunshine glare is artificial. His steady hand and parted lips are authentic. 

Noctis has only ever wanted, really wanted, him.

“They’re red,” Prompto huffs, skirting the fingers of his free hand just over Noctis’ cheekbone, below his eyes. His voice is soft, just above the sound of other people’s cars passing by, oblivious. 

Noctis blinks, hard, trying to push the magic back. He assumes it’s the Well inside him, the line of Lucis, which brings all these complications and most of the time isn’t worth the benefits. 

“It’s okay,” Prompto kisses over Noctis’ shut eye, feather light and fleeting. “I don’t mind, just.”

Squirming, Noctis already knows. It wasn’t a big deal before, when it was only him. When they didn’t have to worry. But his connection to the astrals is growing stronger, his magic more unpredictable. Before, it was just this strange gift, but he’s increasingly faltering in his control.

He comes in Prompto’s hand, his body shuddering in release. Prompto wipes his hand in the grass, his cock still hard between his legs. Noctis hasn’t been particularly attentive. Too distracted, it’s a bad habit of his. It’s not new. 

Normally, he’d make it up to Prompto, dropping to his knees or slotting Prompto’s cock between his thighs or something, anything to remind them both that he’s still here, still present, even if he can’t keep focused. Sometimes it’s just really hard. It’s been getting harder. 

Noctis doesn’t have anyone to ask, if this is normal.

Prompto kisses at his neck, the barest hint of teeth because they don’t have the opportunity for more. Noctis knows they don’t so he focuses on the warm weight of Prompto’s cock in his hand, stroking long and slow until Prompto bites his bottom lip, turning the whole expanse of his mouth a pretty pink. 

If Ignis and Gladio saw, well, whatever, they’ve done it now. Can’t take it back. Noctis is sleepy-drunk with satisfaction and Prompto’s smile. They always knew one day, they would have to change, burying parts of themselves shaved off by the unceasing march of adulthood and responsibility. But it doesn’t have to be today.

“You told me to be brave, before we left Insomnia,” Prompto picks back up the thread of their sniped-short conversation. “Because you weren’t going to be able to do this alone.” Prompto’s got his dirty hand fisted around the front of Noctis’ tee, his grip twisted in the fabric. “And I can’t do anything without you. So you’ve gotta be brave too, okay?”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Noctis repeats.

“Just admit you were wasted and don’t remember,” Prompto laughs. “It’s okay. I’ll remember for the both of us. No matter what,” he pauses, “we’ll do this together.”

In the distance, Ignis calls them for lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> [tumblr](http://imperfectkreis.tumblr.com)


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